Stonks Only Go Up
In a dark room, deep in the bowels of the White House, a man wearing a worn and stained gray robe hefts his body against an enormous crank. Attached to the crank is a huge printer and with each rotation, sheets of uncut dollar bills spew onto the hard concrete floor. Sweat glistens on his face as a low brr fills the room.
The only light in the room emanates from a large flat screen. A dark silhouette of a man standing in front of it staring intently at the flashing headlines reading “Record Unemployment” and “Stock Market Collapse”. The red Fox News logo appears in the corner of the screen.
The man on the crank stops for a moment and wipes his brow. With his back hunches and eyes glued to the floor, he shuffles over to the shrouded individual.
The hunched servant stands behind the figure and stammers “My lord….”
“Yes, my loyal J Pow.” says the silhouette, still watching the images flash on the screen.
“Shall we increase the printing?”
“My dear J Pow, we will increase the levels but we must wait until the perfect moment.”
“But my lord… the congressional tenides are suffering. They will be furious in the senate.”
“Don’t question my foresight! I alerted the chiefs months ago about the situation at hand. Their tendies are secure.”
“But my lord… My personal account is obliterated… How will I be able to feed my family?”
“Silence J Pow! You must trust my generosity. You will receive max tendies for your loyal service.”
“Yes my lord…”
A sharp knock on the door is heard.
J Pow shuffles to the door and opens it a sliver. The yellow light from the hall spills into the dark basement.
“General Mnuchin here to to see you, my lord.”
“Send him in.”
General Mnuchin marches into the room. His uniform is decorated with many medals and a red cape flows behind him. He kneels behind The Lord, who’s back is still turned towards the screen.
“What do you have to report General?”
“The rebels are growing stronger my lord. Our attempts to quell them are backfiring. Their forces are growing stronger with each passing da-”
Suddenly, the shrouded man turns around from the tv screen and flicks out his hand. The general grabs his neck as he is slowly lifted into the air by an invisible chokehold.
“General, might I remind you that it is your duty to keep the population in check.”
“eee.. I can’t…. breath..” says the General tugging at the invisible hand around his neck.
The screen changes to a clip of a masked protester giving a speech to a rabble crowd.
“Exit the system. Buy Bitcoin.” says the masked man into a megaphone
Although he is shrouded, a deep anger is felt engulfing The Darklord’s aura. He squeezes his hand further, tightening the grip on Mnuchin’s neck.
“That reminds me. What do you have to report about Dr. Satoshi whereabouts?”
“He…. is…. anonymous..” says Mnuchin struggling to breath
The Lord releases his hand and the general falls into a heap on the floor.
“Bitcoin is a threat to our sovereignty, General. We must shut it down. Inform your colleagues at Goldman to trash the coin publicly but continue to accumulate via dark pools. Flood the market with shitcoins to confuse the retail investors. As long as Bitcoin’s true potential is hidden from the population, we can proceed with our plans… There can only be one true money Mnuchin and that is the money we brrr right here in this very basement.”
The general lies motionless on the floor and does not respond.
“I believed we could pacify the masses with $1,200 and a note signed by your truly but clearly we need more. J Pow, The moment is nigh! 100x the power! Flood Wall St. Bets with unlimited tendies. We need their DD to encourage the population to FOMO into the market.”
“My liege…. you will lay waste to this great empire. It’s best to incrementally increase the supply to remain undetected! Unlimited QE will cause more unrest!”
“I don’t need your opinion and I don’t need you!”
The dark lord stretches out his hand and a blue energy pulse from his fingertips. The crank of the printer starts to turn slowly at first but within seconds, it starts to spin violently, threatening to detach from the printer itself. The brr turns from a low purr into a load roar. Dollar bills fly out at frighting speeds.
A green message flashes on the TV screen “best day in stock market history since 1984.”
With his hand outstretched, a cracked smile on his face, and dollar bills flying around the room like confetti, the dark lord mutters to himself “stonks only go up.”
